We Are Men

We are men made of dust and water who bear the image of the great Inventor. We also bear black thumbs; death hovers over everything we touch. We are planted in a place that is liable to decay, rot and spoil. Sown in dishonor, prone to weakness, and raised in corruption…we are the result of life lived in limited space.

We are men of purpose and intention that will punch if pushed hard enough. We are living proof that there is something bigger than the clock on our wall. With each articulated click that emerges from its face we are reminded that we are temporal beings with measurable existences.

We are men of right and wrong who must often bear the result of incorrect choices. We observe, learn, and exhibit the behavior that we see and frequently seek out what behaviors are appropriate. We dislike authority and accountability although we know that we need both and we are constantly in transition. We are creatures of habit, yes, but we are also creatures of change.

We are men of animation and vitality who possess intrinsic value. We each have inherent, natural abilities. We hold worth because of who we are and are loved by the One who made us. We are a community of imperfect creatures. Together we learn how to give and how to seal, how to embrace and how to shun, how to be honest and how to lie, how to love and how to hate.

We are men made of dust and water. We bear the image of and are loved by God. We are creatures in constant transition who need accountability. Our Creator gives us each natural abilities. We need Him more than anything.

And together we learn how to love.

Things are looking up…

It’s always just a matter of perspective.

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Stress

Stress is a part of life. “I’m maintaining…I’m maintaining,” we chant to ourselves hoping that those words will give us enough strength to continue the balancing act we’re preforming. And then something happens to throw the balance off…the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back.

But there’s some reassurance in this mess. Without being pushed we would never see God (or anything else for that matter) in a different light. He knows we don’t have what it takes. Even when we’re managing He might allow our buttons to be pushed so we realize we need His help. As torturous as this may sound, it’s really a form of grace. Stress is a teaching tool God uses to show us a better way of living, a better way of seeing and doing things.

It’s not about me (or you) and I don’t have what it takes. He will use me – use you – but only if I get over myself. I have to lose my arrogance, my pride, and my selfish disdain.

It’s okay to vent. It’s okay to tell God that you don’t think His plan is going to work. It’s okay to let Him know that you’re frustrated and want to do your own thing. God is big enough to handle your venting. He gets it. He understands.

So we have to deal with stress in three steps:
1. Vent. Have at it. Vent until you’re blue in the face.
2. Obey. Once you get it all out, follow what God’s told you to do.
3. Step back and watch God work. And prepare yourself to see amazing things.

God has a way of interrupting our lives…our schedules. Sometimes that’s the only way to get our attention.

Well, God, I’m listening….

Week from hell

I can’t remember the last time I had such a hellish week! Thank God…it’s coming to an end. I think I have bronchitis again, which is always exciting and being the stubborn person that I am I will refuse to go to the doctor until I am absolutely sure my body needs some help.

 

Life is so comedic this way: even in the midst of a week marked by too much smoke, tonic, and coughing I am touched by the fact that I have learned something about myself. And about other people. There are parts of me (parts of each one of us) that I (we) would like to change. It’s easy to get discouraged because we want things to get better overnight. We want the instant gratification of a quick, one-time fix.  But that’s not what happens. Well, to me, at least. It’s about forming character, about developing integrity, about saving face and holding your head high when you’re expected to be stuck in your rut forever. These things are temporary. Learning to let go of the past (I’m reminded of something someone once told me about the difference between mistakes and regrets) and realize that the past is just that! It’s passed us, it’s behind us. The only thing we are responsible for, now, is today and what we’re going to do with it.

 

Unbound by the past which cannot change, freed by the present which is filled with promise, and encouraged by the future which looks better than ever I’m looking forward to whatever chapter God has in store for me next.

 

Grace. It’s a beautiful thing.

Dear Turnstyle,

You don’t know this page exists so you’ll probably never read this. I must admit that I am so thankful to have met you. The last four weeks have been amazing because of you and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. I also admit that I won’t be here when you get back tomorrow. It’s been fun…but you don’t deserve me and you definitely don’t deserve her. Life is strange like that. People are strange like that. I have wished for better for you but it’s clear that you like where you’re going. I just can’t come with you because you’re heading straight for disaster with a smile on your face.

Seriously though thank you for everything. But I’m done.

Rach

Too easily pleased…

C. S. Lewis was right when he said that we (humans in general) are far too easily pleased; we’ll settle for life in the slums because we don’t know – nor can we picture – anything different. Every one of us has been given intrinsic tools that, when equipped and put to use, enable us to imagine and realize greater possibilities for ourselves. The key lies in whether or not we choose to recognize those tools, gifts, and abilities. Capable and intelligent, I am confident that you can do anything you put your mind to. The only thing that would hinder you from seeing and then seizing a life outside your personal slum can be found in your ability – or lack thereof – to accept grace. Once we all realize that, well, we deserve the slum we’ve built for ourselves and acknowledge our need for a better life we will be able to see our own intrinsic value and inherit that better life.

We need to open our eyes. We’re sick of the slums. It’s time to take God up on the offer at a holiday at the sea.

“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” [C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory]

Time, our fickle friend…

Time.

It is preset, untouchable, and unchangeable. We are subject to it and we rely upon it. It is measured, it is restricted, and is has an end. It is independent of us.

Sometimes I wish I had more of it. There doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day or enough days in the year to accomplish what I’ve wanted to accomplish.

But recently, I wish I had less of it. Time has gone from and invisible friend (or monster) to a tangible medium that leaves room for half-hearted attempts and accomplishing what cannot be accomplished. I want less of it. I want less of it because, to be honest, that will mean that less is expected of me. One could argue that if time was trimmed the the new set of expectations would be relative to the time we’re given in comparison to our old set. And that may very well be true. But I want a break. I don’t deserve it, but I want some slack.

Time may be on our side, but time is a tempermental and fickle friend who’s loyalty lies only with those who take advantage of it. And I’m too exahusted to profit from imposing on a friend that can only be trustworthy when it’s convenient.

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Reflection int he mirror

You are the best liar I’ve ever met and of all the detours I’ve ever taken you have been my favorite. Covered in sheep’s clothing you have convinced me that you are anything – and everything – but a wolf. But at the end of the day after all the smoke clears and you’re charm is stripped away you (and I) are left with a blank canvas still in search of a medium of definition.

It’s time for this mirror (that connects us) to break. I’m cutting ties and finding me medium. I’m finding my medium with out you. And you should do the same.